


Dark Red

by Rynosaur



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Experimental Style, Gen, Heavy Angst, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynosaur/pseuds/Rynosaur
Summary: Of all the bright colours in the world, Keith is a dark red. The hue of blood that slowly builds up in an open wound.





	Dark Red

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited

Of all the bright colours in the world, Keith is a dark red. The hue of blood that slowly builds up in an open wound. 

At first, he wasn’t always a dark red. He was actually once bright and vibrant. He had a welcoming hue of red, like the red from the roses you give to a lover. He was definitely a tint rather than a shade, more saturated and animated. He was a blessing to his parents and he remembers all too well the warmth he felt when they took turns cradling him in their arms. 

Like a red rose, he was a sign for love, a sign for hope and prosperity - he was treasured. He was an irreplaceable gift. His father gave him all the toys he wanted, all the clothes he wanted to try and he was beyond spoilt. Keith was happy, and his happiness meant his dad was content. His mother was kind. Her gentle touch would make him giggle whenever she tried to change his diapers. Her voice was like a sweet melody the birds in the morning would sing. It was bright and warm around him and never once did the night darken his bright red hue. 

As he grew, however, he started to turn dull. He started to change from an object that was once treasured to an object that’s just there for the sake of being there. He was an abandoned piece of art in a museum, so to speak. Around him people bustled by, but no one bothered enough to stop and look at him. He was just there. His bright colour he once was started to become as dull as the heart’s red. It’s dark, but still bright in a way, and like a heart he’s crucial. Without him - without the heart - nothing would work. 

Things would fall apart faster than they already did.

Quarrels, fights and arguments, those will go on day by day. However, when Keith stepped in the room, or in the picture, it shimmered down to nasty glares and crossed arms. They would always stomp away from each other and leave a thick, undesirable tension for a young Keith to figure out after playing with his friends. He was barely 7 when it first happened, and it’s a growing memory that implants in his brain.

Keith is smart, he knows what was going on, but he was smart to trick himself into thinking whatever he saw was just a flicker of his imagination too. He shrugs, resigning to the fact everything is alright, just like it always was. 

It starts to taint him, and eventually, he turned into what he is today. Every day, as the quarrels gets worst, voices get raised louder and louder, it makes his colour grow darker and darker. Keith hardly smiled, hardly went out, and it has come to a point where Keith became nothing but the red of blood. He became like blood - a leftover from an open wound. 

His father stopped asking him how was his day - he even forgot to pick him from school once - and his mother was no exception, sometimes forgetting to cook. It was a nightmare Keith tried to drown with good grades and good conduct and sleep. Sleep was a relief from this cruelty his reality has become, and he was always happy to never wake up.

His parents tore apart. They left each other. Keith, who used to be the reason they stayed, became nothing but a reminder of all the things that happened and all the things that could. His father couldn’t look at him in the eye. His mother couldn’t even talk to him. His questions and attempts to make the mood and his surroundings brighter with simple trivial things (“Look! I got full marks for spelling!”) meant nothing and did no healing. It was a wound he could not fix, and he was the leftover of that wound. 

It came to a point his mom left, and he clearly remembered every tensed muscle on her back as she opened the door and walked away. He had no “mother” or so to call, and the kids mocked him for it. 

Grades didn’t seem to matter to him anymore because apparently neither was him to his dad. Keith grew up knowing the truth that his father would leave him one day, but he held on hoping maybe things like that wouldn't happen. 

Eventually, his dad did, and it leaves him a dark red. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me love and hug Keith @ dreamworks


End file.
